For The Rush
by offthespectrum
Summary: Hockey player Kendall Knight and movie star James Diamond meet by chance in a club. One night becomes many. Follow the sweetest highs and darkest lows of their relationship. Loosely inspired by Breathe Carolina's "Hell is What You Make It" album.
1. Chapter 1

_So it's been years since I've written, but I just haven't been able to shake this story out of my head. I know it's not the greatest so if you have constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it. _

_This whole deal is loosely inspired by Breathe Carolina's "Hell is What You Make It" album. Each chapter comes from a song. This chapter's song is "Waiting". Give it a listen if you can. _

_Not sure how often I'll be updating as I'm not sure if I can write it in order, but I'll do my best. _

_Here goes._

* * *

The club thrummed with energy from the low bass of the music. Colored lights flashed through the hazy air over the head of the crowd. The bodies on the dance floor writhed in one fluid mass of shimmering lamé and sequins.

This was not what Kendall Knight had in mind when he looked up where he could get a drink near his hotel.

It was his first night in this town, his first night on the West Coast. The move had been a surprise. He thought he'd live his whole life in Minnesota, finishing out his hockey career on their team. But when presented with the opportunity to join the immensely talented California team, with a significant raise in pay, he knew he couldn't pass it up. And just like that, everything changed.

And all he wanted was a freaking drink to cope with how different it all was.

He clutched his whiskey tighter as someone took the seat next to him. This was exactly what he was dreading. He had wanted a nice, quiet dive bar. Someplace that would be dead at this hour so he wouldn't have to deal with drunk college girls draping themselves all over him.

"I'll have what he's having." It was, to Kendall's surprise, a deep voice that spoke. He turned his head and peered at the body beside him.

_No freaking way._

The man smiled at him.

"Nice shoes."

Kendall glanced down reflexively. He wasn't a stylish man by any means, favoring flannels and graphic tees over button-ups and blazers. But he did allow himself one vanity and that was his shoes. That night he was wearing the latest Buster Clyde sneakers.

"I'm James," the brunette continued, as if there was any way Kendall could not know who he was.

He wasn't just any James, he was James freaking Diamond – only one of the world's most widely known actors. And he was definitely taller in person, his smile whiter than in the pictures.

"Kendall," he responded, wincing inwardly. Why was he engaging? He just wanted to be alone. But his mom had taught him to be polite. And with that smile pointed directly at him ….

"I feel like I've seen you before. You come here often?"

Kendall nearly snorted. So he was the type to drop cheesy lines?

"No," he replied flatly.

"Shame." James nodded to the bartender as he handed him his drink, a finely aged whiskey in a small glass. Kendall eyed him as he took a sip, waiting to see if he would sputter at the taste. To his surprise, he watched it go smoothly down his throat. The brunette eyed the glass appreciatively. "Good choice."

"I didn't peg you as a whiskey guy. You look like you'd have more … delicate sensibilities."

"I'm a man of fine taste." Kendall didn't miss the way his eyes roamed over him as he grinned. "So what are you doing here?"

"Drinking."

James's laugh rang out over the music, startling him.

"You're sharp. I like that."

Kendall turned back to his drink and took a quick sip, trying to convey his lack of interest. This was the last thing he had come here for. But when he turned his head again James was still looking at him, clearly amused.

"What?" he bit out.

"Just wondering what brings you here, to the city I mean."

"Hockey."

"That's right, the Minnesota team." James's gaze lingered on his face. "Yeah, I recognize you now."

Kendall couldn't help but be slightly shocked.

"You know the Minnesota team?"

"That's my home team," James replied with a grin. "Gotta support them."

He turned back to his drink again, this time reeling slightly. He wasn't one to follow celebrities. Sure he'd seen James in movies, but he had no idea he was from Minnesota as well.

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the low voice in his hear.

"How can I get you alone? Out of here?"

His jaw almost dropped as he jerked back. He stared at James, probably just a beat too long.

"What makes you think I'd be interested?"

A strobe light flashed and James could briefly see himself reflected in the other man's wide eyes, the pupils dilated. He couldn't help the way his grin widened.

"If there's one thing I've perfected in this town, it's my gaydar. You're definitely one of my kind."

Kendall sucked in a small breath. Nobody knew he was gay. The sports mags didn't take much of an interest in his dating life and he kept his private life mostly off social media.

One of my kind, he had said. Did that mean he was gay too?

His thoughts were interrupted as a hand stroked his leg. He shifted uncomfortably and moved it away.

"Look, I don't know you. And I'm not some starstruck fan that's been dying to meet you."

"Exactly. I'm not looking for someone to fall in love with me."

"Then what?"

James shrugged.

"For the rush."

Kendall just stared at him until he gave a small huff.

"Look, I'm hot. You're hot. What's the hangup? It's just a night of fun that nobody's going to know about."

Kendall drew his lip between his teeth and looked away for a long moment. There was James freaking Diamond, trying to sweet-talk his way into his bed. Was this really happening? Was he actually going to let it?

_You're a fool if you dance, a fool if you don't. _

He stood abruptly.

"My hotel's two blocks away."

He walked off without even looking to see if James was following.

* * *

Their bodies crashed together as soon as the door shut. Hands were everywhere. Shirts were torn off.

James pulled back to admire the sight before him, his eyes slowly adjusting to the sparse light filtering through the blinds. Broad shoulders perfect for gripping in the throes of passion, a body chiseled by hours of exercise and training.

"Fuck, it's like you were made for this." He was quickly pulled back in.

"Less talk," Kendall ground out, with a sharp nip to his lower lip before their mouths reconnected.

James turned his attention to blonde's neck, enjoying the feel of his even breaths over his ear. The man was too composed, too collected. Without preamble he quickly slipped his hand down his pants and gripped him.

"Ah, fuck."

He grinned against his neck. Finally, a reaction.

Kendall was going to be a tough nut to crack, no doubt. But he thoroughly looked forward to the task before him.

* * *

Kendall awoke slowly to the soft light of morning. It was nice to have a break from 5 a.m. alarms.

He opened one eye and immediately frowned.

"You're still here?"

James was stood before the window, watching the streets below populate with the bustle of the city. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

"It's a nice room."

Kendall groaned internally, not planning on having to deal with his one-night stand in the morning, but had no time to respond as his phone rang. He grabbed it off the nightstand and pressed it to his ear.

"Yeah. You found a place?" His manager chattered for a moment in his ear. "No, that sounds just fine. I'll head over."

He hung up and looked over at James again. What the fuck was he still doing there? He wore an inscrutable grin.

"You know, Sherwood's practically right next door to me," he said, clearly having overheard the conversation. "We could do this again some time."

Kendall rolled his eyes.

"Get out of my room."


	2. Chapter 2

_Hoo boy, here we are again. This is one chapter I feel a little shaky on but stick with me, okay? _

_Song for the chapter is "Sweat It Out". Give it a whirl! _

* * *

Kendall isn't sure how one night becomes two, and then three, and then so many he loses count.

Maybe it's being in a new place and not knowing anybody. Maybe it's testosterone from the massive amount of working out he's been doing. He just keeps finding himself with a fever he can't sweat out on his own.

But he knows he's playing a dangerous game, making a habit of this.

Each night they stumble through the bedroom door, completely tangled in each other. When James flips on the lights, he reaches back and flips them back off with a growl. It doesn't help that he knows the other man loves the sound, loves when he takes control and plays rough and just lets him have it.

As long as it's on his terms, he isn't worried.

* * *

When they're laying in bed on night seven (eight?) and James throws an arm over him he stiffens. James lets out a deep chuckle.

"Relax. You're not going to fall for me just because we cuddle a little."

He squirms under the hand that slowly rubs over his bare hip.

"I'm not falling for you, period."

* * *

They're somewhere in the teens when Kendall catches him staring.

"What?" he snaps.

James is silent for a moment.

"Do you ever miss home?"

Kendall is silent for even longer. This is the first personal question James has ever asked and it seems strange somehow to dodge it.

"Yeah," he finally answers, making sure not to look at his face. "I miss my mom and sister. We're really close."

He closes his eyes, feeling fingers running gently over his back. What is he doing?

"What about you?" he finds himself asking.

"Not so much. I never really fit in there, you know? And my parents are divorced so I never had that one place I called home."

He understands. He had his small group of close friends, but still. It can be lonely in a small town.

"What was it like? The divorce?"

James tells him about the acrimonious split. Kendall tells him about his dad walking out on them. And suddenly it's the early hours of the morning and they've just been staring at the ceiling and talking.

Still, when the lights come back on they're both alone.

* * *

Some time in the twenties James wakes up to find his house smelling like bacon. Kendall doesn't turn around when he enters the kitchen so he just stares at his back as he fusses over the stove.

"Don't get any ideas, I just got hungry."

James tries to hide his smile.

"There's a game on, if you want to stay and watch it."

"… who's playing?"

* * *

"No, no, no … AUGH! Come on!" James hurls himself back into his seat. Half the stadium echoes his sentiments. "That was clearly a foul."

Kendall placidly sips his beer.

"It was in the lines, man."

This earns him a sidelong look.

"What are you even doing here? You have no skin in the game, you don't follow either of these teams."

He gives a casual shrug.

"Haven't got the cable set up at my place yet."

"Oh yeah? That the only reason?"

"Yup."

James tosses a handful of popcorn at him.

* * *

"They're just like us!" He can't keep the mockery out of his voice. "Talk about a hot summer bromance; Kendall Knight helps buddy James Diamond carry groceries through the sweltering LA heat. What won't these two do for each other?"

He tosses the magazine back on the coffee table as James sits beside him. He's about to laugh but suddenly there are lips on his ear.

"Bros, huh?"

"Yup, that's us."

Those lips are skimming his neck.

"Just bro-ing it up."

Hands are pushing up his shirt.

"Doing what bros do."

Unbuckling his pants.

"A bro and his br- oh god."


	3. Chapter 3

_I can't believe I've got reviewers! I appreciate you guys so much, you have no idea. I feel like a kid on Christmas morning when I get the emails. _

_Today we have the introduction of a villain from James's past. He won't be featured prominently in the story, really. It's more for the effect he has on James and how it spirals out. But all will be explained in due time. _

_Song for the chapter is "Edge of Heaven". Hope you enjoy. _

* * *

James strolls on set with a cheerful tune in his head. Three weeks into shooting and he's finally feeling like he's gotten into the routine.

But suddenly today feels different. Suddenly he's aware that there's a new, subdued feeling to the set. He hears hushed murmurs and sees everyone scrambling to make things happen. He stops a stagehand.

"What's going on?"

"Your agent didn't tell you? The director had to pull out, emergency medical leave. They had to call in a new director to take over."

"But who-?"

When the voice calls out behind him he can't breathe. His cup clatters to the floor and coffee spills all over his shoes, but he can't feel the burn. He can't feel anything. Because that voice … that voice should be an ocean away. Yet it feels like it's right on the back of his neck.

"Hello, Jamie."

* * *

"… and then he just slammed into me, out of nowhere. I think he's just upset that I replaced his buddy on the team, but jeez, grow up, right?"

No response.

"And then he threw on a purple tutu and started dancing the arabesque. Hello, James? Are you listening?"

"Huh?" He lifts his head from where it's been resting on his hand and his eyes dart to Kendall's guiltily.

"What's going on?" Kendall asks softly.

"Nothing, just … work stuff. A new director took over today. Kevin Steenburg."

"No way, that guy? Doesn't he have like seven Golden Globes?"

"Eight," James corrected automatically.

"Shit, dude. Well that's great, right? The guy's massively famous, everyone will want to watch the movie now."

"Yeah. Yeah, it's a good thing. He's just … demanding."

He can't tell Kendall the truth. Even if he understood, even if he believed him, he would look at him differently.

He couldn't take that.

* * *

Kendall flings the door open and drops his bag with a long groan.

"Work suuucked."

James clicks off the stove and turns to face him.

"Braverman?"

"He checked me like eight times today. I think my neck's out of alignment."

He closes his eyes as warm hands press into his neck and shoulders.

"And here I thought you hockey players were tough guys who could take a hit."

"He's like 300 pounds," he complains, his head tipping back as hands are joined by lips.

"Oh, my poor dear."

He spins around and silences the teasing with a kiss. Within seconds he's pinning James up against the wall. A leg comes up to wrap around his waist and he can't help but grind himself into the hard body before him, winding his fingers roughly into his chestnut locks.

Dinner … dinner will taste just fine cold.

* * *

He wonders if he's always been a possessive guy. His lovers have been few and far between but he doesn't remember feeling this way about any of them.

With James it's all about possession.

It's in the scratches down his back and bite marks he leaves all over his neck and chest. It's in the way he grips his hips, hard enough to leave fingerprints. When they're on the edge of climax he feels like he's dangling from the edge of something vast, like he's hanging in the center of the universe and he could just reach out and be burnt up by the stars.

And he could understand if it was just the stellar sex, but it's more.

It's the way he holds him close when they watch tv in the evenings. It's his laugh and the mischievous smile that's just for him. It's the way that nobody else gets James's homecooked dinners.

To his surprise he picks up a tabloid in the grocery store. It's got a spread of James with his costars at the beach, and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the way his arm is draped around MacKenzie Ferrell's shoulder. His vision is tinged red when he sees him horsing around in the waves with Kevin Cameron, their wet, bare skin in such close contact.

He knows that nothing short of all of James will be enough for him.

* * *

James feels it too. But he feels something else when Kendall isn't near him. He feels like a fire has raged through his body and destroyed him from the inside. He feels the ashes sift around in his chest as he turns to face the window.

He's alone in bed in the pale morning light, Kendall having left hours earlier for practice. And he just can't get up. He has a full day of shooting ahead of him, of doing what he loves. But he just can't move.

He's been a mess all week, flubbing lines and tripping over his own feet. When Kevin so much as breathes too loud he flinches. The thought of facing him again, day after day ….

The idea comes out of nowhere. He rummages all the way into the back of the drawer of his bedside table. His search produces a small baggie and he holds it up in the light.

_My old friend, how long it's been._

It's been years. Years since that soft, perfectly white powder has rushed up into his nostrils. Pervaded his bloodstream, altered his mind. And he knows. He knows where it can lead.

But ….

Just this one time won't hurt. Just to get through this one day. That's all.

Because he knows better now.


	4. Chapter 4

_Posting another chapter today because I already had this one basically written out before the previous one. I know my style is very choppy and these are all just snap-shots. It's kind of how my mind works, especially with the songs as inspiration. I hope it's not off-putting._

_This one is Kendall-centric. A little light before things start to get dark. _

_I don't know how touring for sportsball works, but I did my best. _

_Song for the chapter is "Gone So Long". _

* * *

The light creeps over his face as the sun slowly rises. He stirs in his seat.

That damn song is playing again on the radio, about leaving a lover behind for a tour. He couldn't tell you the name but he could sing it to you word for word.

"Dude, it's time to wake up." His teammate jostles his shoulder as he stands. Kendall peels his face from the window and follows.

The bus takes up a sizeable chunk of the minimart parking lot. Inside a deli and the bathrooms await them. The glories of life on the road.

After he relieves himself he grabs a sandwich and heads to the register. There are magazines displayed in front of it, mostly gun and hunting stuff, but one stops him in his tracks. He's not one to check out the tabloids but this one's got James's face plastered over the front, pressed close to some gorgeous blonde woman's. "Winter Romance for James Diamond?" The picture's obviously photoshopped but his stomach still clenches.

"Really, dude? You're into that shit?" A teammate elbows him from behind.

"I just can't believe she's back with him." He points to a smaller picture on the middle of the cover, some actress that looks just like the others.

"What a waste, right?"

He pays quickly, making sure not to look at it again.

* * *

When he first stepped on the bus he thought it'd be just like any other game season. He wants to believe it's just because he's with a new team.

But he knows better. He knows why everything feels upside down.

The long hours of driving just make him think of home. Everyone else gets rowdy and pumped for the game, but his mind is elsewhere. And he knows, it's not just the silence and creature comforts he misses.

This is what he lives for, the chill of the ice, the rush of playing to a packed stadium. He gives 500% at each game. But it's not the same.

He knows exactly whose face he's looking for when he scans the crowd after making a perfect shot into the net.

And the wins are bittersweet. Because it means another week away.

* * *

_The world still moves on._

He knows things go on without him when he leaves. He's just never thought about it before.

James will keep doing his daily workouts. He'll have meals, on his own and with his friends. He'll keep shooting.

But Kendall mostly thinks back to when it felt like it all stopped. That last night together with James in his arms, the slope of his broad back pressed against his chest. He held him so close, felt every breath move his body.

"I wish-" He stopped as his voice cracked. He couldn't bring himself to say it.

_I wish that I could stay._

* * *

They don't call each other. They're not that sappy couple that has to tuck each other in every night on the phone. They text periodically, with small updates and goofy pictures.

He's standing in the Space Needle, taking in Seattle. It's probably his third time in the city but he's somehow never been up here. He recalls how giddy James was when he said he would be here.

"Dude, you have to go up! Take a picture for me."

He turns his back to the view to oblige, snapping a quick selfie.

To an outside observer it's a normal picture, Kendall smiling with the city spread out behind him. But he notices the James-sized gap beside him, buildings where a body should be. He's gotten too used to shooting the two of them together.

He opens his messenger and words are racing through his mind. There's so much to say, so much he could tell him. His chest feels like it might burst.

He queues up the picture to be sent.

_Wish you were here._

* * *

The nights in hotels are supposed to be a luxury, hot meals and individual showers and giant bed to sprawl out on.

For Kendall they're torture.

He almost prefers sleeping on the bus, surrounded by bodies and murmurs. It's by no means comfortable. But he's not alone.

The bed is too big. The sheets are rough against his skin, like James's hands. He can't stop the thoughts, the moments that play in his head like movies.

He wonders if James recalls the weight of his arms around him as he falls asleep.

* * *

His leg is bouncing up and down as they pull into the long-term parking in LA. Their last game was in Reno. For ten hours he's been watching streetlights pass him by, seemingly in time to his heartbeat.

The championship. The singular goal they had worked toward for three months. The constant string of wins that carried him city to city. The final victory that saw him up on the shoulder of his cheering teammates.

It's the last thing on his mind as he practically trips off the bus. His door's barely unlocked before he's throwing himself into the car and speeding off the down the freeway. He passes the exit that will take him to his house, and the next one.

His parking is shoddy at best but he doesn't care.

His hands are practically shaking as he shuffles through his keys, finally jamming the correct one into the door. It flies open.

And there he is.

James is standing in the hallway, almost as if he were expecting him. As if it were just another night and he'd never left. He's staring at him, like he's just as unsure of what to do next. But his arms open a little, like an invitation.

"Welcome home."


	5. Chapter 5

_Well, I know y'all didn't want it to happen, but it is. James is going down the rabbit hole. _

_I'm not in love with this chapter. Trying to write it was like trying to squeeze frozen toothpaste out of a tube. Let me know if it sucks too bad. _

_This takes place over several months. _

_Song for the chapter is "Chemicals". I hope you're listening to them. _

_Thanks again to my reviewers. I treasure everything you guys say. _

* * *

His hands are sweating when he opens the door for Logan. He's met with the man before, exchanged pleasantries, but Kevin was always there to make the decisions for him.

The dark-haired man offers a neutral smile, seeming to sense his nerves.

"Hey. It's been a minute."

It's been five years.

"I'm surprised you haven't changed your number."

"Bad for business."

James leads him to the living room, pondering what to say as he sits. Logan drops his black backpack unceremoniously on the coffee table. He apparently needs no small talk.

"What are you looking for?"

James is stunned for a moment. Right to the point.

"Just … something to keep me focused at work. To keep me cool, you know? And … something to even me out after." He remembered this from when he and Kevin would carouse too late into the night and had to shoot in the morning. He could just take something with opposing effects. Downers cancel out uppers. Something like that.

"For how long?"

James ponders this.

"A week." Surely that would be enough. He'd get back on track, get himself together, and he wouldn't need it anymore.

Logan produces a baggie and vial of pills.

"This should help you with your focus problem." He holds up the baggie. "The others will bring you back down after. Just start with half a pill, that should be enough."

James nods.

"Cool, cool. Um, how much?"

"Two hundred."

"Shit."

He has the cash, that isn't an issue. He just didn't realize Kevin had been throwing that kind of money around.

"This stuff's the purest you'll find around here. I test each batch thoroughly." Of course he does. He knows his med school career would be dead in the water if he got tangled up with a celebrity death, and that's what this was all for.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's not a problem." He hands the cash over and watches Logan count it. They both stand.

"I get new stuff every week. Just hit me up if that's not enough."

"Sure," he says. "See you."

Though he's certain that he won't.

* * *

He'd taken too much. One pill was definitely, definitely too much. But half wasn't enough. He'd still be jittery by the time he got home and Kendall was starting to notice.

He feels like he's floating, gliding through the apartment.

He creeps up to the bed – was he creeping? He couldn't tell. Kendall stirs as he slides under the covers.

"James, what … ?" He peers closer at his face, sees the dreamy, unfocused eyes. "James, are you high?"

James laughs and presses a finger to his lips.

"Shh, it's okay. I feel good. So good, Kendall. Just feel good with me."

And he silences any protests by putting his mouth absolutely everywhere that he knows drives Kendall crazy. His hands are like brands against his skin, so hot, so very hot. And all over him. He lets him pin him down against the mattress and take him hard.

The comedown is slow and leisurely. He listens to the loud thrum of blood in his ears. Kendall is saying something but it sounds so far away. His eyelids droop.

"Tomorrow, baby. Tell me tomorrow."

He drags him close for a sloppy, sleepy kiss and drifts off.

* * *

The next morning Kendall rubs his back as he heaves over the toilet.

"It's okay. Let it out, it's okay."

As the nausea subsides he leans back against the wall, head in hands. He prays for the upcoming conversation just not to happen. For no questions to be asked, no lectures read. But he knows better. The silence is short-lived.

"James … what's going on? Was it just this one time? Or …."

Guilty silence tells him all he needed to know.

"How long? While I was gone? Before I left?"

More silence.

He sighs and moves down from his perch on the side of the tub, wrapping his arms around James.

"We'll deal with this. Okay? We'll get through it."

* * *

Kendall awakes suddenly in the middle of the night and he's immediately aware of the empty space next to him. He sits up, orienting himself. The lights are all out. There's no sign anybody's up.

He checks the bathroom first, images of James out cold on the floor making his stomach clench. But he's not there.

He checks the living room next and there he is, splayed out on the couch.

"You took something."

"I couldn't sleep."

"You're not sleeping now," he points out, watching James's wide eyes sweep across the room, following some movement only he can see.

"I still hear him."

"Hear who?"

"I hear him. All the time. He tells me. That there are thousands of others just like me. That he could replace me in a second. I'm … nothing."

The look on his face is so forlorn, so lost.

"James," Kendall sighs. "You're not nothing. I'm here, okay? And you're not nothing."

He kneels in front of him and takes his hands. Slowly, the meandering gaze meets his.

"I'm not?"

"No, you're not. You're everything. Now come to bed."

* * *

"Just drop it Kendall, seriously."

"You're the one who said it, that you 'hear him'. Who is he? Who's telling you that stuff?"

"Nobody's telling me anything. I was half asleep, I was probably dreaming."

Kendall gives him a long look.

"You weren't half asleep, James. You were high. You took something."

James shrugs a shoulder.

"And you have a few drinks after work. What's the difference?"

"What's the-? It's not _drugs_. That's the difference."

"Look, I know you're pretty new to the Hollywood lifestyle. But a little recreational drug use isn't such a big fucking deal out here."

"But it's more than that, isn't it?" he asks softly. James can't seem to meet his eyes. "What's going on? Why do you suddenly need to do this stuff?"

A mask falls over James's face.

"Nothing's going on. Just leave it be and let's have breakfast."

* * *

"I'm fine, you didn't have to come get me."

"Bullshit. MacKenzie was in tears when she called me. She said you turned white and dropped like a rock."

Everything's vibrating around him.

"It was nothing."

"You passed out at work, James! It's not nothing!"

They're staring each other down, frustration in both their eyes. But in Kendall's he sees something else, a tinge of fear. James is the first to look away.

"I probably just forgot breakfast. You know how I get during shooting."

"Don't lie to me. It's the drugs. You're using at work."

"God, why is it always back to that? Why can't you believe me when I say I have it under control?"

"Because you clearly don't, or you wouldn't be keeling over and terrifying your castmates."

He had taken just a bit too much, he knew. But it was an honest mistake. One he wouldn't make again.

"Just forget about it, Kendall. I overworked myself. I won't do it again. Just move on."

"I can't just move on. Do you … do you need help? Do we need to send you somewhere?"

James can't help but scoff.

"I don't 'need help'. And even if I did, you can't just pause work on a multimillion dollar movie to let the star skip off to rehab. We have a schedule."

"But James-"

"Look, I can stop any time I want. And I said I would stop once the movie's done shooting. So either way, that's when this ends."

"But what if you don't make it that far?"

James rolls his eyes.

"You're being dramatic. I'm not some addict on the streets doing meth. I've got my life together. I've got my job, I've got you. Nothing has to change."

There's hesitation in Kendall's face and suddenly James's heart drops to his feet.

"I have … got you? Right?"

"James, I don't … I don't know if I can watch you do this."

Suddenly he's the one vibrating.

"All I'm saying is you have to stop. You can't keep going down this path and expect me-"

"No!"

He's on his knees and he can't hear anything over the roar in his ears.

"No Kendall, _please_. You can't leave me. You're the best thing in my life, you're all that makes sense." He knows he's blubbering and his words are running together but he can't stop. He grabs his arms and clings on for dear life. "You can't. You can't, you can't, you're everything, you can't."

Kendall kneels before him.

"James."

"I'll stop. I'll stop it all, I promise. Once the movie is over I'll stop. But please, _please_. Just don't leave me."

He's being pulled into those strong, solid arms. Warm hands are stroking his hair.

"I'm not leaving. James." His voice is thick. "You're killing me."

* * *

He's doing fine. He's doing great. He's had a week-long break from shooting and hasn't used at all. And he's doing great.

He feels like someone's twisting a knife in his back.

There's a needle in his hand and he's not sure if he's really going to do this.

Only the powder doesn't last as long anymore and the pills don't seem to calm him down and something has to get him through the day.

_Most people can do their jobs without performance enhancers._

But facing him, all those hours and hours in the same room. It was too much.

_Facing him? You mean facing yourself. What you let him do. _

This was fine. It would be fine. He had it under control.

_Control? You're losing it. You lost it long ago. _

He clutches at his wrist and falls to his knees, wrestling with himself.

_It's too late. Too late for regrets, Jamie. You're scum. Absolute scum. And you know he's doing it again, to someone else. You know and you're doing absolutely nothing. Except this, running away and getting high. You're worthless. Worthless. Worth-_

The needle's in his vein in an instant. He pushes down on the plunger before he even registers what he's doing.

_What have you done?_

He presses his face into the carpet and sobs.


	6. Chapter 6

_Things have to get worse before they can get better, right? Well, they're about to get worse. Sorry. _

_Thanks as always for the reviews. I eat them up. _

_Song for the chapter is "Get Off Easy". _

* * *

James is staring up into the cloudless sky, wondering who the hell thought holding a charity auction outdoors at the peak of summer was a bright idea. He can feel the sweat seep through his clothes and they stick to him in patches. He shifts uncomfortably.

A waiter meanders by and he snatches a glass from his tray, eagerly sipping the champagne. It's crisp and cool and glides across his tongue.

He hates these events. He knows it's for a good cause but he can't help but resent being there. He'd rather be in his air-conditioned apartment with Kendall, watching something stupid on tv and goofing off.

Instead he's here, slated to stand before the podium and smile as some pretty young actress auctions off a date with him.

There's a white tent in the center of the estate, closed off from prying eyes. He wanders over and glances around before furtively slipping in. It's cooler by a few degrees and he breathes a sigh of relief, undoing a few buttons of his polo.

The tent is bordered with tables, holding the prizes for the upcoming auction. He wanders the perimeter, running his fingers over the expensive trinkets and baubles. He stops at the placards for the dates.

_Date with James Diamond. Date with Tabitha Crowe. Date with Jett Stetson._

"James Diamond. A sight for sore eyes."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

James turns to face the obnoxiously handsome man, grimacing at the glaring white grin. He's never been at odds with Jett exactly, but he doesn't like the guy.

"What are you doing here? You're not one to get tired of schmoozing."

Jett holds up a small baggie and shakes it, making the pills inside bounce against one another.

"Needed someplace private for this. Can't show the world our trade secret." He winks. "Want one? It'll make meeting our 'lucky winners' more bearable."

James swallows hard. It's a charity auction. He should be behaving, giving his all for the cause.

But god does he want to be anywhere else right now.

He holds his hand out and Jett obliges with a grin.

"Atta boy. All work and no play, am I right? We gotta find our fun where we can."

The bubbles of the champagne carry the pill down quickly and there's no turning back.

"These things are so tedious," Jett groans, rolling his eyes. "And me? On a date with some mundane normie? Ugh. But my publicist said turning down the invitation would look bad."

"Yeah, mine too."

He feels a buzz in his fingertips.

"I'll do my best, of course, to charm my date. Maybe she won't be too hideous. I've seen a few cuties in the crowd. Access to daddy's money goes a long way in this town. Maybe we'll even have a little fun."

"Uh-huh."

Why was Jett speaking so slowly? The room starts to tilt as Jett comes closer.

"Of course, we could have a little fun right now."

Strong hands lift him onto the table.

"What do you say, Jamie? There's time yet before the auction."

Lips are on his neck and his head is swimming, full to the brim with sensation.

"Mm, yeah …."

Their lips meet and he tastes chocolate covered strawberries. The feeling of Jett's hands under his shirt is like nothing he's ever experienced. Time is just a whisper of a concept. Now is all there is, now and Jett, peeling off his shirt and nibbling on his bare skin. His belt is being unbuckled and Jett's tugging at his pants.

With a loud groan the table underneath them gives and they're pitching backward, spilling out of the tent in a tangle of limbs and lust.

James holds up a hand to shield his eyes, wondering why the sun keeps flashing. When he lowers it he finds himself staring up at a dozen cameras.

* * *

A loud pounding jolts him from a deep slumber. He stumbles to the door and yanks it open.

"What the _hell_-"

The words die on his lips at the look of fury on the face before him. A magazine is jammed in his face.

"Explain this."

He's on the cover with Jett, and he doesn't even have to read the tagline (James Diamond and Jett Stetson: Hot Summer Fling?) to know he's about to get it. Big time.

* * *

James's eyes are red and raw from the salt of his tears. Kendall is still yelling.

"First you say that he kissed you, now you're telling me you kissed him! Your story keeps changing! Which is it?"

"Kendall, I-"

"Do you even remember? Or were you too _fucked up_ to know what was going on?"

The color blanches from James's face at the venom in his voice.

"This is my own fault." Kendall starts pacing, carding a hand through his hair. "This is on me, I should have killed this whole thing at the start. When I had the chance to get off easy."

James's throat constricts.

"Don't say that," he whispers. "Please, don't say that."

"How am I supposed to feel, James? I've been there for you through all the _shit_ you've been doing, through all the sleepless nights and the mornings you could barely get out of bed. And then you do this?"

"It was just once. Just one time!"

"How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to trust you when I don't even know who you are anymore?"

"I'm still me, Kendall! Please! I'm still me!"

"No you aren't! You aren't interested in anything anymore! You don't remember half the shit I tell you! Even off the drugs, you're too zonked out to do anything! It's just work and drugs! That's all you are now!"

There's a long silence

"I can do better," he says quietly.

"Are you going to quit?"

James can't meet his eyes.

"Of course. Of course, stupid me."

"When the movie's over-"

"When the movie's over you'll find another reason. And then another."

Kendall runs a hand over his weary face.

"I've been doing this for months, James. And I can't anymore. I don't have it in me, I just …."

He searches his face for something but can't seem to find it. The man before him is nothing more than a familiar stranger.

"I'm done."


	7. Chapter 7

_Hopefully you're still with me after the last chapter. This one is James-centric. _

_I'm really working on grinding this story out. The images are screaming to get out but finding the words is a challenge. I had to really think back to my party days, which were some years back and didn't involve hard drugs. _

_Song for the chapter is "Blackout". _

* * *

"It just isn't like you, James."

The worry in his agent's voice would normally make him guilty. Instead he's just irritated.

"I'm going to a club, Aaron. Blowing off a little steam. It's not such a huge deal."

"It's the third time this week and it's only Thursday."

"It's been a rough week."

"James, you can't tell me you're not acting different. MacKenzie told me-"

He ends the call and tosses the phone across the seat. Let the next passenger deal with it. He's got better things to do.

The music pervades his body as soon as he steps into the club. The volume drowns out everything else. He makes his way to the VIP area and doesn't have to say anything before the velvet rope is lifted for him. They know him here.

"James!" The group cheers his arrival.

"How far behind am I?"

"We're three shots down already, man!"

Three shot glasses appear before him, he knocks each one back in an instant. He waves away the offered chaser, even though his face is twisting from the burn. The others laugh and he laughs with them.

He's only getting started.

Two drinks later he's dancing with a pretty young thing. He's not interested in the slightest in women but it's nice to have a body pressed against him.

Something catches his eye from the periphery. A shock of dirty blonde hair at the bar. His stomach lurches as he whips his head around to take a look.

But it's just a woman with a boyish cut. She catches him staring and offers a flirtatious wave.

He shoves the girl in front of him to the side and furiously strides back up to his table. He whips a baggie out of his pocket and dangles it in the air.

"Let's go a little harder!"

* * *

The door swings open to reveal James grinning like a buffoon.

"Logie! You're here!" He beckons him in with a sweeping gesture. "I'm so glad you made it!"

It's 10 a.m. and he's already slurring his words. He's got a half-empty bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. Logan doesn't say anything.

They take their usual seats, James pouring another whiskey. He offers it to Logan, who shakes his head minutely.

"It's gonna be a big night tonight, Logie. I need something really good."

Logan rummages through the ever-present black backpack, producing a few baggies.

"Take your pick."

James plucks a bag of pale pink pills from his hands.

"Ooh, these look promising. What are they? No, don't tell me. It'll be a surprise."

With a mischievous grin he pops one right there, downing it with a swig of whiskey.

"Dude, you can't take those with alcohol. They're-"

The glass sails over Logan's head and crumbles against the wall behind him.

"Don't tell me what I can't fucking do! I'll live my life as I damn well please! Fuck!"

Logan doesn't seem fazed, calmly laying three more baggies out on the table.

"Eight hundred for the lot."

As quickly as he became irate, James calms. He throws his head back and laughs.

"Always business with you, Logie. You're still my man, right? Right, Logie?"

"Of course."

From then on he only comes accompanied by Carlos, who wears a helmet and looks like he might bust through a wall at a moment's notice.

* * *

He's flying. He's in a sea of bodies but he's not swimming, he's flying. And as he looks at all the faces around him he can see everyone's flying with him.

He can hardly tell where he ends and the next person begins.

He's so giddy he can't help but laugh. It's so perfect. Life is perfect and he can't think of a single thing wrong with the world. Every song is his favorite song. Everyone here is his best friend.

He steps out into the chilled night air and savors its bite. He's about to light a cigarette when it's plucked from his lips.

"Wrong way, man," says a laughing voice. It belongs to a man with green eyes and a chiseled jaw. James feels a jolt through his body. The man flips it and places it back between his lips, letting a finger gently brush over them as he pulls away.

"Thanks."

He lights it and inhales deeply, closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of the chemicals bouncing around in his head. He can feel each molecule's movement.

"I've been watching you."

Slowly he meets the man's eyes and suddenly he's on fire.

Somehow they make it upstairs to an empty bedroom. He doesn't really know whose house this is, but he doesn't care. The kisses against his neck are searingly hot, each touch of the man's hands exquisite bliss. The door reduces the noise of the party to a dull roar but the bass filters through, setting a rhythm to their motions. They cry out together.

* * *

James is still a little giddy when he walks through the studio doors. Everything's moving around him but if he tilts his head just right he can walk without wobbling too badly.

"Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable!"

Kevin, from the director's chair, rakes his eyes over him, oozing rage.

"Who in the fuck do you think you are? Coming onto my set, completely trashed?"

He stands and James skitters back, knees suddenly shaking.

"You're off your ass! How dare you waste my time with this shit?"

He raises his hands just in time to deflect the coffee cup that is hurtling toward his face. The hot liquid splashes over his shirt.

"Get out! Get the fuck out! And don't come back until you've got your shit together, you understand me?"

He bolts out the door, clutching at the invisible hands around his neck.

* * *

He can't stop moving to the beat that's vibrating through his bones.

He can't stop running his hands over the bodies pressed so tight against him.

He can't stop long enough to feel the chasm growing in his soul.

He can't stop.

* * *

When he wakes up he's in the hallway in front of his door, propped up against the wall. He can't fathom how he got here or remember where he was before.

He stands up on shaky legs and fumbles with his keys before entering the apartment.

He takes three steps and stops. The silence is tangible, pressing in on his ears. The colors around him are muted. The air is cold and still. It suddenly hits him like a freight train.

He is alone.

For the last month, even surrounded by bodies, he has been alone.

He finally feels it, the chasm. His apartment is empty. His career is hanging on by a thread.

For the first time in many months, he experiences clarity.

_This won't stop 'til I say so. _

He goes to his room and packs a bag.


	8. Chapter 8

_Alright guys, we're in the home stretch. Just three more songs including this one. Thanks for sticking with me so far. _

_I must warn you that this chapter has brief mentions of physical and sexual abuse. _

_Song for the chapter is "Wooly". _

* * *

"Well, Mr. Diamond, there is good news. You have come to us free of any sexually transmitted diseases."

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He was so careless this last month.

"As for your drug screen," the doctor continues, peering down at his chart. "Well, you managed to tick just about every box."

He hangs his head in shame.

"Hey, look at me. It's okay." He meets the doctor's eyes and wonders how any of this could possibly be okay. "You've got a long road ahead of you, son. I can't lie about that. But you've taken the first step by coming here, and that's huge."

The doctor lays a hand on his shoulder.

"If you're ready to start, we'll get a room set up for you."

Is he ready? All he knows is he's tired of living like this.

* * *

"There he is, Kendall Knight!"

Excellent.

All he had wanted was to get a fucking coffee on his day off. But it had immediately turned into a media shitshow, as many of his recent outings had.

"Kendall! Kendall! You haven't been seen with James Diamond lately. Is the bromance over?"

"You're his best friend, did you know about Jett Stetson? Are they dating?"

"Reports say drugs were involved in the charity auction incident, is this true? Do you know what they took?"

"Kendall!"

"Kendall!"

The voices start overlapping, drowning each other out. He wants to put his hands over his ears and scream. Instead he shoves a camera out of his face.

"I don't have anything to say about any drugged out Hollywood washups. Get out of my face."

"Kendall, rumor has it that James has entered rehab. Do you know where he is?"

His hand freezes on the car door for just a second. They seize on that and the frenzy doubles, the words they're shouting all but gibberish to him now.

He throws the door open and hurls himself into the car. He turns his music up to 20 and practically drifts as he turns out of the parking lot.

* * *

He's sitting next to a girl whose name tag reads "Annie". She's crying like there's not a circle of addicts watching her.

"He just did whatever he wanted with me. And I couldn't do anything about it, I was high out of my mind. I don't know how long it went on for, I lost consciousness a few times."

James takes her hand and marvels briefly at how small it is.

"I didn't go to the police the next morning. I should have, I know. But … I thought it was my fault. Because I got so high. Because I thought … I thought he was someone who would take care of me."

She starts sobbing and the group gives her a moment.

"That's a powerful story, Annie. Do you understand now that you're not to blame?"

She nods slowly.

"It's harder some days. But I'm coming to accept it. I misplaced my trust in him, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I was sick. And he was a bad man who took advantage of that."

"Good. Very good." He shifts his focus. "James, would you like to speak today?"

All eyes are on him and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

"No, I, um …. No. Not today."

"Okay. Whenever you're ready."

* * *

Kendall sits in a bar, the exact kind he was looking for his first night in LA. It's a beat-up hole in the wall where nobody seems to know who he is.

On the stool next to him is Dak Zevon, a former actor who now plays on his team. They both sip on whiskeys.

"You're thinking about James."

"Huh?" Kendall whips his head around to look at him.

"I can tell, you're making the 'James face'."

"… the 'James Face'?"

"Yup. You have a special face for him. It used to be cute, a little love-struck, but happy." Kendall cringes. "But it's changed. Lately it's all frustrated and slightly forlorn. Not as cute."

"Yeah, well, shit happens. People start making idiotic decisions."

He turns back to his glass. He means to end the conversation there. He doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to think about it. But more words come bubbling up before he can stop them.

"I just don't know what else I could have done. Or what I should have done differently. Did I give in too much? Should I have yelled more, set ultimatums? Or was it never enough? All the support, and care, and just … time? Would it never have been enough for him? I just …."

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"I just gave him so much. But it didn't seem to matter. He still turned to the drugs. He still hooked up with Jett."

Dak frowns.

"That doesn't sound like James. I mean, we were never close but we ran in some of the same circles. And that doesn't sound like him. Not since-"

He cuts himself off abruptly but Kendall's eyes are back on him.

"Not since what?"

"I mean, I don't know exactly. I shouldn't really say anything. But last time he got involved in that stuff, he was working with Kevin Steenburg."

The gears in Kendall's mind are whirring.

"That's who's directing his movie now."

"That's … quite a coincidence. Look, all I know is the rumors. But rumors were that Steenburg's the one who started him on all that junk. Supposedly he took James under his wing, but he treated him like shit. The makeup artists said they'd had to cover a lot of bruises during that shoot." He shrugs. "Those are the rumors, anyway. But … it might be worth getting the whole story."

"I'm not speaking to him," Kendall says flatly. "No way. I'm not getting pulled back into that. He's not going to drag me down with him."

Dak gives him a long look.

"You really loved him, though, didn't you?"

He's too tired to deny it.

* * *

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Seriously? How do you think I felt? How the fuck is getting choked out in my own dressing room supposed to make me feel?"

The therapist presses her lips together for a moment.

"I'm not the enemy here, James." Her tone is patient.

He sighs and hangs his head.

"I know. I'm sorry."

He finished detoxing over a week ago but he still experiences mood swings. And these questions don't help.

"It was a terrible situation, to be sure. I understand that. But there's a wide variety of responses you could have, everyone is different. I need to know how _you_ felt."

He mulls it over, sits in the memory.

"I felt … small. And weak. I felt ashamed for being too scared to fight back. I felt like he was able to take over me completely and that was terrifying."

"Good." She nods. "We can work with that."

* * *

They go around the circle as usual. A few people cry, a few make everyone laugh. He counts down the people until it's his turn.

"James, would you like to share today?"

Again, all eyes are on him. He feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. He can't. He can't possibly bare his shame to the world. He can't show anyone the horrible things he did, the things he let happen.

But he knows that to move forward he must.

"I've done ... a lot of bad things. And I don't know if they're my fault or if it's because …."

He takes a deep, shaking breath.

"I also had a man. Who hurt me."

Annie reaches over and takes his hand.


	9. Chapter 9

_I was really debating writing this chapter because it's about such a minor character. But I didn't want to dump the whole backstory on you guys in the final chapter. And yes, there is more. _

_Also, I accidentally named two characters Kevin. Whoops. _

_Be warned, there's talk of physical abuse and brief mention of sexual. _

_Anyway, here we go. Song for the chapter is "Lauren's Song". _

* * *

As the weeks go by James finds himself more often in good spirits. He doesn't feel like his old self, he's nowhere near that yet. But he can feel the changes, the little improvements, with every passing day.

This particular day James is wandering the sunny halls, meandering with no real destination in mind. He whistles a little tune and smiles at everyone he passes.

But when he enters the tv room the tune dies on his lips, as everyone turns to look at him with concerned eyes. He's trying to puzzle out what the problem could possibly be when he spots a familiar face on the tv. A face he's seen almost every day for the past year, captioned with a tragic headline.

"No …."

There are hands patting his back, arms encircling him in sympathetic hugs. He can't feel any of it. Snippets of the news report filter through the haze.

"… aged 21 …"

"… found in his Hollywood home …"

"… at the hands of director Kevin Steenburg …"

"… drugs in his system …"

"… signs of sexual abuse …"

It couldn't be. It simply couldn't be, he must be dreaming.

He slaps himself, hard.

But the reporter keeps talking and the headline hasn't changed. He winds up for a second slap but is restrained and dragged to the ground.

"It's okay, James." Says a voice from above. "It's going to be okay."

But it's not. Because he's dead.

* * *

The stage lights are near blinding, and hot as a midsummer day. A droplet of sweat rolls down the small of his back.

A woman is applying powder to his face, perfecting the work she had done off-stage. Another clips a mic to the lapel of his jacket. She pats his shoulder when she sees the look on his face.

"Don't pass out on us, kiddo. You're gonna do great."

The two retreat as a stunning brunette in a pantsuit approaches and takes the seat beside him. She takes his hand.

"Are you ready, James?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"You're terribly brave to do this. Terribly brave."

She pulls back her hands as the director calls for places and folds them in her lap. She sets her gaze toward the camera and waits for the final call.

"Rolling!"

"Good evening, and welcome to Evening Stars. My name is Lana Delphine."

She turns her head toward another camera.

"It's been three weeks since news of Kevin Cameron's death rocked Hollywood. The young star, only 21, was found strangled in his own home. Kevin Steenburg, the main suspect, was just last week found guilty of the crime. In the weeks since news of the death got out, many have come forward on Twitter and in the news to share their stories of Steenburg's mistreatment of themselves or those they worked with. Today we have one such brave star with us, James Diamond."

The camera pans out to include him in the shot.

"James, thank you so much for joining us."

"I'm glad to be here, Lana. I just wish we were meeting under better circumstances."

"Indeed. Now, you gained your footing in Hollywood by staring in Steenburg's third movie, _Angels in the Airducts_, is that correct?"

"It is. And he is- _was_ directing my current film."

"Tell me about shooting with him."

"I think … I think I was one of his first "special boys". That's what he would call me, his special boy. And it feels like such an honor at the time but … it comes with a heavy price. He's a demanding director, everything has to fit his vision exactly. And his special boy has to be the most perfect of all. I can't tell you how many times I was dragged into my dressing room to be screamed at, or slapped around. There were a few times … he did put his hands around my neck. It was terrifying. I really thought sometimes that he might kill me."

He tries to suppress the shudder that wracks his body.

"I can only imagine. And nobody knew that this was going on?"

"I feel like they had to. He was by no means a quiet man. But I would leave my dressing room with bruises and the makeup artists would just quietly sit me down and cover them up. Nobody said anything. No one stood up for me. At this point he was already a pretty huge director, I don't think anybody felt like they could go against him. He could end their career in an instant."

"I can only guess that it got worse as time went on and his fame grew. What about with Kevin Cameron? Did anyone know? Were there any signs?"

"I … I had my suspicions. I think he learned to tone it down, keep it better hidden. But some of the same patterns were there. By that point, though, I had turned to drugs to cope with working for Steenburg again. And I just … I just buried myself in that. I didn't want to see it. And I feel so immeasurably guilty about it. If I had known …." He shakes his head, willing the tears back into his eyes. "I should have done something."

"Now, James, you were in Bellvue Rehabilitation when you heard the news, is that correct?"

"Yes. I was incredibly lucky to be in such a safe and caring space. It really put me into a dark place to hear the news and to be surrounded by all that support … I think it saved my life."

"I'm so glad to hear that. What do you think about the verdict in Steenburg's case?"

His face hardens.

"Fifty years isn't nearly enough for that scumbag. He deserves so much more. He can never replace what he took from the world."

"Okay, we're going to have to wrap this up in a moment. Just one more question. If Kevin Cameron were here, what would you say to him?"

"That I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. We all loved him so much. Nothing will ever be the same without him."

"Thank you, James, for coming here to share your story with us."

She lays a hand on his as tears freely trickle down his face. The camera zooms back in.

"Next up, we talk to Lightning the Wonder Dog about his favorite humans. We'll be right back."


	10. Chapter 10

_Here we are, final chapter. Thanks so much for sticking with me. _

_And yes, there is even more to James's story. I don't know why I put him through so much, that's just the way the story came out in my head. Steenburg is a bad, bad man. _

_This is really dialogue heavy as it's a lot of exposition and explanation. _

_Song for the chapter is "They Say You Won't Come Back". _

* * *

When he opens the door his hands are steady, palms dry. The brunette on the other side quirks a brow as he takes him in.

"Kendall Knight. Kind of the last person I expected to call me. Aren't you athletic guys all about keeping clean?"

"Just get in here." He ushers Logan inside hurriedly and gestures to the couch. When they both are seated Kendall lets out a breath. "Look, I just want to talk."

The brow shoots up again.

"That's not a request I get often. You know I could be out making actual sales right now."

"So I'll pay you, whatever. I just need to talk to you." He gets an expectant look. "I need to know about James Diamond. I need to know why he came to you."

Logan tilts his head and searches his face.

"He's never told me outright. Just said he was having trouble focusing at work."

Kendall sighs. He should have known this guy wouldn't give him everything.

"But, he did talk about a guy sometimes."

"A guy?"

"Didn't ever say who. It would kind of slip out sometimes, in the beginning. He'd say that 'he' was getting to him or he couldn't face 'him' on his own. Then toward the end he started mentioning him a lot. Saying he could feel his hands on his body and hear his voice."

"But he never gave you a name?"

"He was too scared. But of course, he would be."

"What do you mean?"

Logan hesitates.

"Look, whoever this guy he was talking about was, he definitely hurt him. I could see the signs clearly, he was going through post-traumatic stress."

Kendall is stunned.

"PTSD?"

"I see it a lot in abuse victims. They present the same way as James did."

His mind struggles to keep up, to process it all.

"He also talked about you a lot."

His jaw drops just a little.

"He did?"

"Yeah, mostly after you left. How good you were to him, how talented, how sexy." Kendall blushes at this. "He really went on about you."

Kendall drops his face into his hands.

"I shouldn't have left him. I should have been there."

"No, it's good that you left."

"What?"

"Your leaving let him hit his rock bottom, so to speak. He wouldn't have gotten help otherwise."

Kendall shakes his head.

"And he wouldn't have even started on that path if it weren't for you. Why are you selling drugs anyway?"

He shrugs.

"Med school doesn't pay for itself. And if it wasn't me, he'd have gotten them from someone else. At least I know my stuff is safe." This time Kendall's brow goes up. Logan rolls his eyes. "Safer than the shit on the street. I know mine's not laced with anything. Anyway, that's all I got for you. I don't know anything else."

He stands and Kendall pulls out his wallet.

"Fine. How much for your time?"

Logan takes a long look at the wallet and shakes his head.

"Keep your money. Just make sure I never see him again."

* * *

A gentle breeze wafts up the hillside, creating rolling waves in the grass. It blows the chestnut hair out of his eyes as he gazes out across the pond. The sun, getting ready to set, glints golden off the water. The only sound for miles is birdsong.

Yet he doesn't seem surprised when a tall, lanky body appears from behind him and folds itself up to sit at his side.

"How did you find me?"

"Friend of a friend gave me a tip."

"You've been talking to my friends?"

"I've been looking for answers."

This does surprise him.

"Why?"

"This place is a little eerie, all surrounded by forest," Kendall diverts. "Looks like somewhere you'd go to dump a body."

James rests his arms on his knees.

"That's what it felt like, the first time I came here. Like I was disposing of my own corpse. I just hurled rocks into the pond and screamed until I couldn't anymore."

There's several long minutes of silence.

"What are you doing here?" James finally asks.

He can't look at him. He knows what's coming, knows he can't keep anything from Kendall at this point. Anything he asks, he will answer. But he can't see his face, the inevitable disappointment and disgust that will adorn it when he has his answers.

"I need to understand, James. Why you turned to the drugs. Why you were always running from me. I mean, I get some of it. The PTSD, Logan explained that to me-"

His head turns so fast he almost gives himself whiplash and he gapes at Kendall.

"You talked to Logan?"

"I told you, I've been looking for answers."

"… you may not like what you find."

"Maybe. But I need to know."

Their eyes lock for a moment and James loses his breath in those warm green orbs. He averts his gaze quickly.

"There's no use in bringing up the past. No need to see where I've been."

"It's part of you, as much as you try to run from it. And I don't want you to keep running, from it or from me. I want all of you James. And I do get it now, how it would have been hard for you to open up all the way. To trust. I mean, you trusted him and he took advantage. He beat you and belittled you and got you started using. But now I know these things, and I want to understand-"

"Stop." James squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Just … stop talking."

He doesn't open his eyes for a long while, but finally lets out a long breath and turns to see Kendall's crestfallen face.

"You don't know everything. Not yet."

He produces a cigarette from his pocket. Kendall watches his shaking hands as he struggles to light it, finally snatching the lighter away. With a disapproving look he lights the damn thing himself.

"Hey, I gave up all my other vices. Let me have this small one, for now."

He lets out a long exhale, watching the plume of smoke rise into the air and get carried away by the wind. He doesn't know how to start except to start.

"He used me. At first I thought that, in his own twisted way, he may have loved me. But it was all about control. That's why he started me on the drugs, it made me easier to manipulate. So he could …."

He stops for another long drag.

"At first it was just him. He would get me doped up and then have his way with me. And that was fine, mostly. It made it easier, I suppose. If I wasn't in the mood it would get me in the mood. So it was fine."

He bows his head. He hates that tears are gathering in his eyes.

"But then we'd go to the parties, these really private affairs. And he would … pass me around. Share me."

The cigarette snaps in half in his clenched fist.

"The thing is when I was high it was great, I loved it. The attention, the praise – I ate it all up. But then I would come down and feel so sick and so dirty. I would spend hours in the shower, just scrubbing myself raw. And then I'd get high to forget, and a few days later I'd let him take me to another party. I think by the end I was only sober for a few minutes a day. He kept the supply constant."

"How did you stop it?" Kendall's voice doesn't betray any emotion.

He shrugs.

"I didn't. He did. Just as quickly as he entered my life, he was gone. Just up and flew to Europe one day without a word. Left me for good. Or so I thought." He shakes his head.

"And you just stopped the drugs?"

"I didn't have the money to fund my habits. I didn't even know what the hell I was on by that point. So I holed up in my shitty little studio and just detoxed for a week. I honestly thought I was going to die in that apartment. I probably should have."

Kendall stands abruptly and walks away. James closes his eyes and drops his head in his hands.

_I knew it. He's disappointed. He's disgusted. He won't come back. He-_

Something flutters around his shoulders and he realizes, now that he is warm, that he was cold. He clutches the blanket tight around himself.

"You were shaking, dude."

He doesn't know what to say, can't even seem to remember how to breathe properly. They both stare out into the water, now reflecting a fiery red sunset.

"You're really strong, James."

"I let him do all those things to me."

"You were drugged and abused. And then abandoned. But you made it through. You're so incredibly strong."

He reaches down and squeezes James's hand.

"But then I went and started using again. Fucked things up for us."

"And you went and got help. You got yourself right again. It takes a lot to do that."

"... I missed you."

He looks down to try and hide his tears. Kendall leans his head against his.

They sit and watch the sun fall below the horizon.

* * *

_Aaand that's it. That's the end. _

_Is there a happy ending for the two? I guess that's up to you. I like to think they manage to work things out. _

_Thanks so much for sticking with me through this whole ordeal. I so appreciate the time you guys gave me and the reviews. Each one just made me so happy. _


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